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KEEPERS OF THE FLAME The third Stefan Kumansky novel • By Neil McIntosh The journey of Stefan Kumansky draws to its conclusion in the city of Altdorf. With the largest ever Chaos invasion threatening to break over the civilised lands, Stefan’s previ- ous battles will be nothing compared to the one he now faces. The secret society ‘The Keepers of the Flame’ has uncovered a Chaos plot to strike at the very heart of the Empire, and ask for Stefan’s help. But with the fickle powers of Chaos, nothing is ever what it first appears and Stefan and his companions must make a last, desperate attempt to avert a disaster that could crip- ple the soul of the Empire. Neil McIntosh was born in Sussex in 1957 and currently lives in Brighton. He has contributed stories for the Warhammer anthologies, White Dwarf and other magazines, as well as writing for radio. Following a lengthy sabbatical, he returned to writing fiction in 2000 with two sto- ries for Inferno! magazine. Keepers of the Flame is his third novel. Keepers of the Flame can be purchased in all better bookstores, Games Workshop and other hobby stores, or direct from this website and GW mail order. Price £6.99 (UK) / $7.99 (US) Bookshops: Distributed in the UK by Hodder. Distributed in the US by Simon & Schuster Books. Games & hobby stores: Distributed in UK and US by Games Workshop. UK mail order: 0115-91 40 000 US mail order: 1-800-394-GAME Online: Buy direct care of Games Workshop’s web store by going to www.blacklibrary.com/store or www.games-workshop.com PUBLISHED BY THE BLACK LIBRARY TM Games Workshop, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK Copyright © 2005 Games Workshop Ltd. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited, in any form, including on the internet. ® ISBN: 1 84416 186 2 This is an excerpt from Keepers of the Flame by Neil McIntosh. Published by Black Library Publishing, 2005. Copyright © Games Workshop Ltd 2005. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited, in any form, including on the internet. For more details email [email protected] or go to the Black Library website www.blacklibrary.com from KEEPERS OF THE FLAME The note had been passed to Stefan by a figure hurrying through a busy alley the day before. The messenger was gone in an instant, but the symbol imprinted on the envelope told its own story. The Star of Erengrad. For Stefan, there was no mistaking its meaning, or its significance. The address scrawled on the note took him to a large rundown building amongst the tangle of streets that wound through the merchant quarter down towards the docks. Water spilled from ledges and rooftops, soaking through every layer of his clothing. From the outside the house appeared deserted, even derelict. He checked the note a second time to make sure this was the right address. There was no mistake, this was the place. He was trying to decide whether he should knock, or sim- ply wait, when the door in front of him was opened. A young, slightly built man dressed in green looked Stefan up and down, and offered him a fleeting smile. ‘Good. You’re alone,’ he commented. ‘Come inside.’ Stefan stepped across the threshold into the dank interior of the building. Having come this far, it would be senseless to turn back now. The building smelled damp and unlived-in. The air smelled dead, as if it had been freshly exhumed. The place was cavernous and gloomy; gravity hung heavy upon the still, cool air. The green-clad figure walked on ahead of Stefan. ‘They’re waiting for you upstairs,’ he said casually. ‘Follow me.’ Stefan hesitated, part of him still wondering if this could be some kind of trap. Keepers of the Flame 3 ‘Who are they?’ he asked. The young man turned and looked at him, quizzically. ‘Who do you imagine?’ Stefan held out the envelope. ‘I imagine the Keepers of the Flame.’ His companion nodded briefly, as though confirming an evident fact. ‘Follow me,’ he repeated. ‘And your name,’ Stefan said. ‘May I know that?’ The other man paused on the stair. ‘I am known by a num- ber of names,’ he smiled. ‘But you may know me as Nikolas Kranzen, who serves that same order.’ Nikolas walked on, a lantern held aloft above his head. At the head of the stairs he stopped, and waited in front of a set of heavy oak doors. He bowed his head and murmured some- thing, the words inaudible to Stefan. The heavy doors opened inwards in a slow, stately movement. Nikolas beckoned to Stefan, and nodded his head slightly, as if to offer re-assur- ance. ‘Who am I meeting?’ Stefan asked. ‘A man,’ Nikolas replied simply. ‘He has a name, but no rank or title. Or none that matters. He will explain our purpose to you.’ The door led into a corridor that stretched for thirty or forty feet, perhaps the entire length of the building. It was lit by a series of candles that flickered at intervals along the walls. There were no decorations, no features at all save for a line of plain doors that ran along either side. This might once have been a merchant house, where commodities were bought and sold, and deals struck and contracts signed. And now – now it was a place of ghosts, ghosts that passed unnoticed amidst the bustle of Altdorf. Ghosts known to a few as the Keepers of the Flame. Halfway along the length of the corridor Nikolas stopped by a door on his left. He knocked on it twice then, without wait- ing for an answer, pushed the door open and motioned for Stefan to step inside. Beyond the door was a tall room that was empty save for a featureless round wooden table and a row of portraits on the walls. Sitting on one side of the table, facing Stefan and 4 Neil McIntosh Nikolas were not one, but two men. Nikolas’s face registered a momentary flicker of surprise then he bowed and turned back to Stefan. ‘This is it,’ he whispered. ‘Good luck.’ Stefan had a hundred questions spilling into his head but his guide had gone, and the door was closed behind him. Stefan fixed his attention on his new companions. One was a stockily built man with a trimmed mane of silver-steel hair and a distinct, military bearing. The other man was smaller and bookish by comparison, with clear blue eyes that offset his otherwise bland features. Stefan didn’t immediately recog- nise either man, but both seemed to know exactly who he was. ‘Welcome back to Altdorf, Stefan,’ the smaller man began. He indicated the chair. ‘Please sit.’ Stefan took the offered chair, and looked about. The room was featureless and anonymous, empty but for the three of them. Stefan had the distinct impression that the house had been commissioned specifically for their meeting. ‘My name is Marcus Albrecht,’ the man continued. He did not introduce his companion. ‘I serve an order known to you as the Keepers of the Flame.’ Stefan nodded. ‘Then you’ll know I’ve spent much of the last year in their service. But my work is now done.’ Albrecht bowed his head in a gesture of humility. ‘We are heartened to have you safely returned from Erengrad,’ he said. ‘We owe it to you that the dark tide was stemmed in the east. At least for a while.’ Stefan picked up on the words. ‘For a while? We broke the Chaos siege. Erengrad was reclaimed by the people.’ Albrecht glanced at the other man. ‘What I am about to tell you is not widely known,’ he said, gravely. ‘But the conflict around Middenheim is only part of a larger war, a campaign waged by the Dark Armies against all the Old World. Six months ago, while their forces were massing to the west, they fell upon Kislev again, and besieged its cities and ports. ’ ‘What of Erengrad?’ Stefan interjected urgently. ‘Burning,’ the silver-haired man offered, breaking the hover- ing silence with a terse, single word. Keepers of the Flame 5 ‘The city has not fallen.’ Albrecht added hastily. ‘Not totally. The fighting continues. Forces loyal to the Old World contin- ue to fight on.’ Stefan sat in stunned silence. This was news indeed, and unwelcome news at that. For him, Erengrad was far more than a name given to a far-distant place. ‘What of Elena?’ he demanded, abruptly. ‘Elena Yevschenko. What about her?’ ‘Like all the rulers, she is alive,’ Albrecht said firmly. ‘At least when last we heard.’ Stefan expelled a breath, quietly shocked to find the emo- tion was still so raw inside him. ‘Elena Kuryagin is alive,’ Albrecht continued. ‘She and her husband are leading the resistance against the invading forces.’ Stefan felt his face flush. ‘Sigmar be praised for that,’ he said. ‘We endured untold hardships together, so that Elena could return safely to Erengrad. For her to have perished would have been unbearable.’ For a moment he was lost in his own private thoughts. Memories flooded back. Memories of the journey east, and of the young noblewoman who had briefly become his lover. Memories, too, of Kuryagin, the Kislevite lord who waited in Erengrad for the bride he had never met. The marriage had been forged at a terrible cost, but it had re-united a troubled city, and, seemingly, turned the tide against the forces of Chaos. He could not bear to think it had been all for nothing.

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